Forgot to take my meds this morning...
Why, Oh whyyyyyy do I feel some sort of unconscious need to test shit to see if it's "working"?
Or maybe I was just forgetful...

I felt like my brain was going to try and spill out through my left eye socket.
Kind of still feels that way... Bleh.
Baaaadddd me!

Then... I logged on this evening and read the "fat hate" thread.
FML.
It's almost amazing that those "thins" will even dirty themselves by talking to those of us the don't deem slim enough yet, though they won't define that "size", anonymously through a computer.
I have less than charitable feelings about people who are like that... because I KNOW that they do NOT reserve their judgement for when they see a heavy person in a grocery store with "pizza" or "a bunch of rubbish" in the cart. No they don't. They judge every fricking time they see us. If they see fat people at the gym working out and over time not having results, they whisper to their friends that that one "must be stuffing it in later"... or whatever. I heard that shit when I was thin and healthy working out all the time. And they judge when they see heavy women shopping for clothes, or pretty much anything else. I've either heard it directly from the mouths of people within earshot or had it said to me.
There is a word for that one can use for particular brand of pretending to "care" about someones else's anonymous health so that one can gloat because their own pants are a smaller size...
Schadenfreude!

It is not flattering, no matter how awesome Avenue Q is.
Not flattering at all.
ADULTS acting like that... to me, it makes them lower with whale shit.
Because that's reserved for the behavior of small children whose mothers haven't SCARED the allHOLYpee out of them yet for talking with their friends like that.

Their whole premise "everyone just needs to be the best they can every day" "Be more awesome"... where awesome = thinner... WTF.

All that shit has made me want to do is stay the fuck home, so that I'm not accidentally "seen" with the loaf of bread and fucking poptarts in the cart that my husband still eats.
And allthegodsforfuckingbid that I get "seen" with that pint of "Ben&Jerrys" icecream that I share with him once every few weeks... cause my ass certainly isn't THIN enough to deserve that!

I also learned that I'm not living up to my "potential" on several other levels, and that that's not healthy.
SOCIAL for instance.
*sigh*

Last edited by cori93437; 08-30-2012 at 01:17 AM.

“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.”
~Friedrich Nietzsche
And that's why I'm here eating HFLC Primal/Paleo.

Speaking of "Thins":
I am fairly slender, I'll freely admit. I am not of the ballerina stature or the modeling toothpick. I come from working stock, so I have a useful form to my body and breeder's hips. That said, a toothpick decided to get up in my business while I was in Chicago for business.
She decided that it was her god given right to tell me that the deep dish I was eating would make me "even heavier." I had just gotten off two planes and was eating for the first time that day at 10PM. It took all I had not to go nuclear on her.
"I am a size 2, maybe a size 4 on a bad day. I was unaware that was considered heavy, more to the point, I really don't care what you think. Go suck on the teat of your diet cancer drink and leave me and my coworker alone."
She looked positively aghast that I would talk to her that way (she would've clutched her pearls had she had them) and started looking around like she wanted to start a fight.
"Honey, are you sure you wanna mess with Texas?" I said, pulling my knife out of my pocket and displaying it on the table.
She turned white and walked away.

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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"Honey, are you sure you wanna mess with Texas?" I said, pulling my knife out of my pocket and displaying it on the table.
She turned white and walked away.

And yet you have no idea why we think you might be intimidating . . .

Cori- that sounded like an "I'm having a bad day in general" rant, but I hear you. Heck, I am a judgy mcjudgypants- but at least I keep it to myself and include myself in the judginess. I want to fit in, I want to be "normal" (whatever that is), I want to be "in," but the older I get the more I realize that to do so I'd have to totally turn my back on my own self and I'd constantly be on the treadmill of "not normal/thin/rich/whatever enough." Well fuck that. Way too much work for something that has no meaning in the end

Anywho- not sure if that made any sense- but *hugs* and *whew* on getting to keep garlic We love ya no matter what size you are

(/therapist impersonation)

http://cattaillady.com/ My blog exploring the beginning stages of learning how to homestead. With the occasional rant.

I'm only intimidating if you fuck with me or mine. Stay cool, I'll be cool.
Cori, I can only sympathize and send happy thoughts. I tried being rich, white, skinny, beautiful, and dumb, as the American populace seems to value. Never could find the rich. I'm white, but don't tan worth a flying fuck, so I'm not the right white. I don't want to be skinny enough for their values because I prefer functional form, so they can take their size 00 obsession and shove up their asses sideways. I am beautiful, as are you and everyone here, because fuck societal norms, I prefer what's inside. Dumb seemed boring, counterintuitive, and about as far from being myself as I could get. I am not a vacuous bimbo and, gods willing, will never be. So, I took a long hard look at that, and realized that neither I nor anyone I befriend will match society's requirements (because hanging out with vacuous ijits is trying in the worst way,) said fuck it, and went off to carve my own path with a machete.

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
My Latest Journal

Cori, you are worth more than a million jerks like that. I hate it when people see human worth as measured in pounds or letters after one's name instead of on love, courage, kindness, or the inherent value of being a human worthy of dignity and rights based on nothing more than that humanity.

Fuck 'em. You are made of awesome.

“If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

Back from the land of MIAs...
Not feeling the greatest this week.
The fat people hate got to me... the last postings I read on there were the nails in the coffin for me I guess. All about how we are all supposed to work at "doing it all" and having these perfect rounded lives, and we'll all be so much happier if we have fun and socialize while having smaller asses. I don't fucking know.
What I do know is that living as a "SICK" person long term really changes that shit. I don't think that I would laugh MORE at a movie with my husband if my ass was smaller. I think that it would certainly be nice to be able to go back in time and have all those fun ladies nights and hang out with my "friends" again... but I rarely see them now.
I simply don't do those things anymore. I don't go out to loud places, or drive a car, or drink anything but water with lime (or lemon if the place doesn't have fucking limes)... I can't "plan ahead" because I never know what day I'll wake up too sick to leave the house.
So, Yeah.... been feeling a put out by all of those "just pull your big girl panties up and do something about it" fat haters and their "But it's only 1%" of people who have an illness or problem BULLSHIT... They have NO clue. Seriously, no fucking clue.
And by my sort of "shut in" status...
The meds that made me feel great the first few days... aren't that great in the long haul.
I would have kept the super energetic ADHD instead of trading it for dizziness if I could have...
Also... a possibility... it's that SPECIAL week where my pressure goes UPupUP. So my head has been hurting worse, especially when I lay down, which means my pressure is up... maybe it'll be better once I stop being a FLUID monger once the Russian Circus arrives, and gets the show settled in.

I popped in for the "confessions" thread and very uncharitably thought that it was SO namby-pamby and juvenile that I could never share my own confessions there.
An then that made me very sad for myself and the life I've lived that I have those things to "confess", but don't really regret doing them.

And then I popped in to find that Rape thread... during PMS.
Yes, I've been a victim of sexual abuse, coercion (you know, the kind where you don't want to get beat this time), and forced violent rape...
There were several things I wanted to tell the OP that may have resulted in also getting my own account banned.
So, I hit the report button and ranted semi-coherently there instead.
Yes, I did.
I hope that the OP understands that vengeance is also Primal, as is M/M rape... and if I had my druthers about his sentiments several large men would introduce him more formally to the topic so near and dear to his heart, very violently... at least the first time. Maybe the second or third time they'd let him "say yes" to avoid the beating.
Pulp Fiction... with no Butch to save Marcellus, and the OP is obviously Marcellus.
Yes, I do understand that is wrong of me. Whatever.

And now this... 5 Stupid Habits You Develop Growing Up in a Broken Home | Cracked.com
(I hate you... you know who you are.) JK, not your fault my family sucked balls!
5. Yes, I used to do that... seriously. I caught on to this pretty early about myself... and thought WHY would I lie about that??? I grew up and stopped caring enough to lie about stuff... maybe it was because I cut ties with my family for a few years around that time and moved away. Kind of ousted the reason behind it.
But! Silver lining, learned how to channel it into creative writing really young too... though it remains a plaything.

4. The bane of my existence to this day...
End the passage you read with "What good will that artsy fartsy bullshit ever do you" in my fathers voice for anything not "real" work... for the rest... ignore if done correctly, beat/berate if done incorrect even if it's something you've never done/heard of before.

3. Yep... Lack of middle ground has been with me a Looooooooonnnng time. From breaking out in cold sweats at the thought of a 95 on an exam, to worrying about which pile to sort a blue/green colored shirt into, the blue pile or the green pile... is it bluer or greener... checking under different light sources and comparing to different colors of blue and green... I've DONE it! Yes, I'm one of THOSE people who have (used to have, I've over come this to some degree) 10 different color sortings to do laundry. UGH.
Of course... in other aspects I'm a complete and total (though never a jobless couch sleeping type) slacker and have trouble fixing that too. Fuck you parents.

2. Always.
And there was a person who posted a thread the other day saying that "self harm" didn't make sense... Derp.
I cut for a very short period of my childhood. That'll get you beat. There are more subtle ways to self harm that don't leave the noticeable markings. It's a bit like OCD and I can still catch myself in a flareup when stress gets high. It's hard to imagine doing this without being aware, but it's not that hard.

1. I win... this isn't a problem in my house BECAUSE...
Husband and I are BOTH from crappy broken ass homes (though his was just
normal" broken), and we are both Moody Bitches sometimes...
Thus, we BOTH know the signs of impending MOOD, and know to walk the fuck away.
Neither of us are hoverers or fixers... we have separate "rooms" (he has the ever glorious "man cave" I have the living room), we go there, all is well.
Occasionally there may be a "You're an ass today", but that's it.

This one may have been an issue in my past... but I was living with an evilmotherfucker... I'm not quite sure trying to avoid his wrath quite falls under this heading. I don't know?

Overall dreary shit I guess.
But...
It's milk day... I get to leave the house for a little while!
The Guernsey just freshened again... I was missing that buttery yellow milk, glad to have it back.
Not that I minded just the Jersey while she was dry for calving.
Honest, if you've never seen fresh grass fed Guernsey milk you gotta... more yellow in the jar than most sticks of butter! So pretty, and tasty. A little less fat than Jersey, though not much, but sweeter. Guernsey GOLD!
(Obviously not a local cow... look at that HILL behind it. LOL Generic photobucket pic.)

And then I'm gonna eat a beef fajita salad, because they have to do something with the boy calves, (sans silly "bowl") at my favorite local little Mexican place.
And have water with lemon. Meh.

“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.”
~Friedrich Nietzsche
And that's why I'm here eating HFLC Primal/Paleo.